


Matchmake Heartbreak

by SneakyHufflepuff



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-13 15:24:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2155566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SneakyHufflepuff/pseuds/SneakyHufflepuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint is a professional matchmaker and Natasha is a professional matchbreaker. They get hired for the same couple.</p><p>From a prompt by scribble_myname for the be_compromised promptathon over at livejournal (lj still exists, everyone!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to shenshen77 for the beta :)

“She’s the love of my life. I just need to figure out a way to propose to her.”

Clint nodded sympathetically at the young woman across the table from him. She was painfully earnest, with mousey blonde hair. She looked thoroughly ordinary, but her history belied her appearance. 

“I ran a background check,” he began.

“I ran a background check!” Kate yelled from the front room.

Clint reminded himself to fix the door between the two rooms for the hundredth time. His potential client, a Ms. Pamela Williams, eyed the ancient furniture and faded purple paint in his office with wariness. 

“My partner ran a background check. Three counts of fraud and eight counts of petty theft. And that’s just the convictions.”

“That’s my juvie file!” Pamela Williams exclaimed, shocked out of her wariness. “You shouldn’t have access to that.”

“We do our homework, Ms. Williams. And your girlfriend comes from a very wealthy family.” 

Clint gulped some of his coffee, letting the silence weigh down on Pamela. In his experience, conmen had a glib excuse ready to go at this point in the proceedings.

“I was just a kid, and I’m a different person now. You have to believe me!” Pamela finally said.

 _You have to believe me?_ Even a wet behind the ears conwoman would have had a better line. He knew all the ways kids could screw up from personal experience, and Pamela’s crimes hadn’t been violent or malicious. He trusted his instincts; Pamela Williams was genuinely in love with her partner, Lucy Makata. 

“I believe you,” Clint said, finally.

Pamela sighed in relief. 

“What have you planned for the proposal so far?” Clint asked.

“I was thinking Central Park.”

Internally, Clint winced at the cliché. Externally, he was all confidence.

“That’s something to build from. What does she like about Central Park?”

They launched into planning. Clint was able to ascertain Lucy Makata’s preferences through Pamela’s answers. The perfect proposal would be showy and well thought out, but not public. 

Pamela left, visibly more confident and happy than she’d been when she entered. This is why he had gotten into the romance consultancy business in the first place, to help people who were in love to stay in love. To help create something beautiful.

***

Natasha looked down at the piece of paper in her hand, the sweet thrill of victory thrumming through her veins. She held a check for $16,700, earned after only a few hours of work. An investment banker had become concerned about his sister’s fiancé, and his concerns had been well founded. The former fiancé was going to jail, the sister was free to find someone who wasn’t a complete sleaze, and Natasha’s bank account balance had improved. 

“Did you really have to charge him for the Louboutins?” Maria asked from the doorway of Natasha's office.

Her expression might have read as stern to the rest of the world, but Natasha could see the smile hiding at the edge of her lips. Maria was just as happy as Natasha that Hill & Romanoff had another success to its name.

“Expenses.” Natasha shrugged, unrepentant.

If the client had wanted his bill to be lower, he should have spent less time leering at her.

“The Makatas just arrived, and I’m still on the Drew case. You want to take this one?”

Natasha cocked an eyebrow. _Do you even have to ask?_

“Have fun.”

“I always do.”

Maria had retreated to her office to plan by the time Darcy brought the Makatas, a middle-aged couple, to Natasha’s office. 

“Welcome to Hill & Romanoff,” Natasha said, all cool professionalism. “My name is Natasha Romanoff. Please, take a seat.”

Both Makatas were dressed expensively, but Anna Makata had a sense of style her husband, Michael, lacked. Her black hair was cut in a chic bob, while the asymmetrical hem of her designer dress made Natasha itch for an extensive shopping spree. Michael, in contrast, was dourly dressed in a grey business suit. Before Natasha could complete her assessment of the couple, Anna Makata spoke.

“It’s our daughter, Lucy. She’s with another woman,” Mrs. Makata said, and then lowered her voice to a whisper. “A former criminal.”

“Aren’t you people supposed to help with this kind of thing? That woman is ill-mannered, unattractive and a mechanic,” Mr. Makata stated.

“Completely unsuitable,” Mrs. Makata agreed.

Natasha held up her hands to stem the flow of words from the Makatas. She had seen meddling parents like these a hundred times in her office, and most of the time she turned them away.

“Mr. and Mrs. Makata, I understand your concern. Of course we will investigate, and determine this woman’s motives. But I want to be clear: Hill & Romanoff specializes in breaking up abusive or fraudulent relationships. If your daughter is safe and happy, and her partner is honest with her, there isn’t anything we can do.”

“You don’t understand,” said Mr. Makata. “We told Lucy about that woman’s criminal past, and she didn’t know. But Lucy still won’t leave.”

Mrs. Makata began to tear up. It probably won’t be long before she beats her chest in agony, Natasha thought, irritated at the excessive display of emotion. 

Despite her irritation, Natasha offered Mrs. Makata the tissue box she kept on her steel and glass desk for such occasions. 

“As I said, Mr. Makata, we can investigate. If your fears are founded, which I’m sure that they are, we will then begin our patented break up plan.”

She glanced at Mr. Makata’s gold watch. It was incredibly tasteless and incredibly expensive. She could probably charge the Makatas twice her usual fee and they wouldn’t even notice. 

“We don’t have time for your investigation,” Mr. Makata said. “My head of security took these photos.”

Mrs. Makata flinched at the mention of the head of security, Natasha noticed, before turning her attention to the picture. It showed a young woman, probably the girlfriend, Natasha guessed, in front of a sign that read ‘Hawkeye Consulting.’ And in smaller, peeling print, ‘We never miss.’ 

Clint. Her stomach dropped.

“That woman has hired a romance consultant. If they’re successful, we’ll never get Lucy back,” Mr. Makata explained, unnecessarily.

“I’ll take the case. We bill on an hourly basis, plus expenses.” Natasha said, tight-lipped. 

“Thank you, Ms. Romanoff. We can’t thank you enough,” Mrs. Makata said.

“With what we’re paying her, we shouldn’t need to thank her at all,” Mr. Makata grumbled. 

Mrs. Makata fished around her purse, pulling out a pair of reading glasses, four pens, and what looked like an ancient packet of gum.

“I’ve forgotten my wallet. Would you be a dear and pay the young woman at the front?” she asked her husband.

“Of course you forgot,” Mr. Makata sniped at his wife as he left Natasha’s office.

Once he was out of earshot, Mrs. Makata turned to Natasha, eyes wide and pleading.

“I know you must be judging me. Don’t deny it,” she said.

“It’s not my place to judge,” Natasha replied, offering her the tissue box again.

“All I’ve ever wanted is what was best for my daughter.” Mrs. Makata took a tissue and began dabbing her eyes.

“Don’t worry. Hill & Romanoff has a ninety-five percent success rate. You and your daughter will be fine.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gloves come off.

Kate settled back on the park bench, wincing as the dew from the early morning seeped into her jeans. She sipped her coffee, eyes drooping. Part of being the junior partner meant she pulled the early shifts.

Pamela and Lucy were doing yoga on the lawn in front of her, along with several other women. Kate’s assignment was to tail them, and gain insight into their relationship dynamic (and although Clint hadn’t mentioned it, to make sure Pamela was on the up and up).

Pamela and Lucy certainly gave all the signs of being in love. Prolonged eye-contact, giggling, and unsubtle ogling were all evident. They looked like any number of other couples she and Clint had helped over the years.

Bored, Kate sleepily checked her messages, and smiled to see that America had texted her sometime last night. Her smile disappeared as she saw a familiar flash of red hair out of the corner of her eye. Even with the sunglasses and the new haircut, Kate recognized Natasha Romanoff, otherwise known as the woman who had tread all over Clint’s heart, otherwise known as the best matchbreaker in the business. And she was looking right at their clients. Fuck.

Kate thought about calling Clint, but decided to tail Natasha instead. She needed more information than ‘your evil ex might be trying to break up our clients.’

Natasha kept moving along the path, hard to spot in the dappled sunlight underneath the tree branches. Kate followed, keeping a pair of joggers in between herself and Natasha. The joggers blocked Kate’s sightline for half a second, and Natasha was gone. Kate froze, and someone cleared their throat behind her.

Kate jumped. She’d forgotten how Natasha could sneak up on people.

“Good morning, Kate,” Natasha said, smirking.

“Natasha,” she managed.

“You’re out early. Nice day for a walk, isn’t it?” 

Natasha looked like a cat about to eat a canary, and Kate gulped. For Natasha to be playing games with Kate meant she must already know that Hill & Romanoff was competing with Hawkeye Consultancy. They were so fucked.

“I can pay you double what he’s paying. I always thought you had more talent than he gave you credit for,” Natasha said, casually, as if she weren’t discussing tens of thousands of dollars.

“I’m a full partner now,” Kate answered. “And even if I weren’t, I would never betray Clint like that.”

Natasha put a hand on Kate’s shoulder, and lowered her voice to a conspiratory whisper. “You could do so much better.”

With that she slipped her sunglasses over her face and strode away.

Kate reached into her pocket to warn Clint, only to find her phone missing. In front of her, Natasha carelessly pitched Kate’s phone into one of the garbage bins along the running path. 

“See you around, Kate,” she called, with a smirk.

Kate felt her dislike for the woman bloom into full-blown hatred, then resigned herself to pawing through garbage to get her phone back.

***

It took about five minutes of talking on the phone with Kate before she was calm enough to tell Clint what had happened. Thirty minutes later, he was tailing Natasha as she tailed Pamela and Lucy.

Lucy was hailing a taxi, Pamela laughing on her arm, when Clint made his move. He sped up, moved past a gaggle of tourists, and bumped into Natasha’s back with his half full cup of coffee.

“Oops,” he said, as the coffee spilled down her cream blazer.

He really did feel bad, wasting that much coffee, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Natasha whirled around to glare at him, her expression flickering from surprise, to hurt, and then to anger.

“Fuck off, Clint.”

She attempted to move towards the road to hail a taxi of her own, but Clint blocked her path, and the gaggle of tourists enveloped them, arms holding up iPhones and cameras offering an effective, unknowing, barrier.

“I’m so sorry, ma’am. Is there anything I can do to help? Pay for the dry cleaning?” he asked, loudly.

Lucy and Pamela’s taxi disappeared into traffic, and Clint could see Natasha grind her teeth in frustration. The tourist gaggle passed on just as the taxi turned the corner.

“Looks like your evil plans will have to wait, Tash,” Clint said, openly gloating.

“Don’t call me that.” She scowled at him.

“Fine,” he said. “But just tell me one thing: what’s the deal? I thought you were selective about taking cases. They’re in love.” 

Clint was genuinely confused. The Natasha he knew never would have tried to break up Pamela and Lucy.

“I’m investigating,” Natasha answered, primly. “Not that it’s any of your concern.”

“Bullshit. I can still tell when you’re on a hunt.”

“And what if I am?” she asked. 

“Um. Stop?” Clint tried to figure out what would move her. “It’s not right, Tash- I mean Natasha. Leave them be.” 

She laughed at him: throaty, mocking laughter. His gut twisted as he remembered when he had made her laugh from surprise, or from joy. 

“You want me to give up, in the name of true love? There is no such thing. All I see are two idiots who don’t know what they have is temporary,” Natasha said, cruelly.

Clint didn’t know if the two idiots were Pamela and Lucy, or Clint and Natasha’s past selves.

“And if I can make a buck from them, why shouldn’t I?” she added.

“That’s not who you are, and you know it,” Clint said, softly. 

“Get off your high horse, Clint. You were the one who cheated on me, remember?”

“It was a drunk kiss. And if you just let me explain-” Clint started, before Natasha cut him off.

“It was a drunk kiss, with your ex-wife, which I had to find out about from Maria.”

Words stuck in Clint’s throat.

“And you can’t even say sorry. Still. Goodbye Clint,” she spat in disgust.

He felt winded, as if her words were physical blows. She walked away, the coffee he’d spilled staining on the back of her blazer, and he couldn’t help but feel she had gotten the better of that exchange. 

***

Maria looked up from her desk to see Natasha stalking to her office, face dark.

Maria reached into her cabinet for the vodka they kept at work, in case of emergencies. Natasha looked like she needed it.

“What happened?” Maria asked, as she sat down two glasses on Natasha’s desk.

Natasha slid a picture towards Maria. It showed Pamela Williams in front of Hawkeye Consulting. 

“Oh,” Maria said, and poured Natasha a shot of vodka.

Natasha knocked it back, set the glass down and Maria poured another shot without blinking. Instead of drinking, Natasha glared at the glass, angry enough that Maria wouldn’t have been surprised if it had shattered from the force of her rage.

“He was lecturing me about morality today,” she explained, bitterly. “And he got coffee on my new blazer.”

She drank the second shot, and this time Maria joined her.

“Do you want me to take the Makata case?” Maria offered. 

“No. He still has feelings for me and it will make him ineffective. He has no idea what’s going on.”

Maria chose to say nothing about any feelings Natasha might harbor for Clint.

“Everything proceeding as planned, so far?” Maria asked.

“More or less,” Natasha responded. 

Maria took the vodka bottle back to the cabinet. The Makata case was complicated, and Maria needed Natasha at her best.


	3. Chapter 3

Natasha had changed into a tight green dress with a low neckline, specifically for the occasion. She was dining at a family-run Thai restaurant, at the sole table that overlooked the pier.

The pier was empty in the cool night air, bar the happy couple. Lucy and Pamela were having dinner on the Makata family yacht. They were gazing into each other’s eyes, holding hands and eating delivered pizza, utterly in love. No wonder Mr. Makata had been so worried about their relationship.

Clint sat down on the seat opposite her, wearing a tight grey t-shirt and jeans. It was unfair how good he looked in ordinary clothes. Some part of her was disappointed he hadn’t dressed more nicely when he knew they were going to meet.

“Nice outfit. Planning to pull the secret girlfriend routine?” Clint asked, attempting nonchalance.

The light tap of his fingers on the table revealed his nervousness.

She shrugged in response; she had let him get to her last time. This time would be different.

“The secret girlfriend is a classic for a reason,” she said, shifting so her dress showed off more skin.

Clint looked, of course. It would be more flattering if he wasn’t so easy.

“You couldn’t do anything to stop me, if I wanted to interrupt their romantic dinner,” Natasha informed Clint.

“Look, Nat, I don’t want to fight,” Clint responded, a determined set to his jaw. “I came here to offer you a deal instead.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow and sat back in her chair, waiting.

“You back off, and I give you half of my fee,” he offered.

It was a ludicrous offer, almost sweet in its idealism. Still, she kept her expression stony.

“All two hundred dollars of it? You can’t be serious.”

“I give you half of my fee, and I don’t email Lucy this dossier.”

He slapped a folder on the table in front of her, turning from idealism to cold professionalism in a split second.

At that moment, the waiter chose to arrive with the wine, a 2012 Riesling.

“Is everything okay here?” the waiter asked Natasha, his usually kind face betraying concern.

“Of course,” Natasha assured him, in fluent Thai. “Just a professional dispute. You don’t need to bring him a glass.”

Clint tensed, looking between Natasha and the waiter for a hint of what Natasha had said. Let him stew Natasha thought, viciously.

The waiter left with a nod and a worried glance.

Natasha poured herself some wine, ignoring the folder on the table in front of her. She took a sip of wine, then another, and then Clint broke. He flipped open the folder, showing her Mr. Manaka’s credit card statement, and pictures of her tailing Lucy and Pamela.

“You know as well as I do that sending the dossier is risky. The stress it will put on their relationship might break it better than I ever could,” Natasha said.

Clint pulled out a recording, and she was subject to the unpleasant sensation of having her own voice played back to her.

_“True love? There is no such thing. All I see are two idiots who don’t know what they have is temporary. And if I can make a buck from them, why shouldn’t I?”_

“Relationships tend to become stronger in the face of hostility. But say that you’re right, the files and the recording split them up, it won’t matter,” Clint said.

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Because if I send this tape to every single one of your clients, and every single one of your victims, you’ll never work again,” Clint said.

She expected him to be smug, but instead he seemed sad, eyes solemn.

“Are you blackmailing me, Clint?” she asked, caught between disbelief and anger.

“If I have to,” he answered.

They locked glares, neither willing to blink first.

A burst flash of light came from the almost forgotten yacht below. Natasha tore her eyes away from Clint. Pamela had switched on rows of fairy lights, and the entire boat was lit up. Classical music wafted up to where Clint and Natasha were sitting.

Fairy lights were one of Lucy’s favorite things, as was pizza, as was the music.

“Oh no,” left Natasha’s lips involuntarily, as she added it all together.

“She’s proposing. And there’s nothing you can do about it,” Clint said, settling back in his chair to watch her.

She pulled her phone from her purse, but she was too late. Mary Jane, a local actress, strutted down the pier in a short red dress and strappy heels. She was early. What kind of actress showed up early? Mary Jane leapt into the yacht, pushing past Lucy to face Pamela.

Natasha couldn’t see what they were saying from her vantage point at the restaurant, but all three women were obviously yelling. Natasha used her phone to take a photo and sent it to Mr. Makata. She might as well some use from the chaos.

A crying Lucy dragged a confused Pamela from the boat, towards their car, as Clint looked on, frustration at his helplessness in every line of his body.

“Looks like you didn’t have all the angles covered, after all, Hawkeye,” Natasha said, hiding her unease under a smirk.

Clint glared at her, and she was taken aback at the unbridled contempt in his eyes.

“Congratulations, you just ruined two people’s lives. How does it feel?” he asked.

“If you hadn’t interfered, none of this would have happened.” She glared right back, defiant.

Ever since Clint had showed up, her carefully laid plans had disintegrated. This mess was partially his fault.

He pushed back from the table.

“Enjoy your dinner Natasha. How you sleep at night is beyond me.”

He practically stomped out, like a toddler. What had she ever seen in him in the first place?

Natasha no longer felt hungry. She left a sizeable tip at her table and returned home to her apartment, brain still spinning. She needed to get into contact with her clients. Just as she opened the door to her office, her phone buzzed. It was a message from Kate Bishop, of all people.

She opened the message to find a picture of Pamela and Lucy. Pamela was beaming, with an engagement ring on her finger. The caption below the picture read _I hear wedding bells. We NEVER miss._

Her phone buzzed again. A message from Clint.

_48 hour truce?_

Clint was playing for time. Clever.

She sat and stared at the text for a full minute before responding. _Sure. Why not?_

***

Two days later

The courthouse was the perfect setting for the short and sweet wedding Pamela and Lucy had envisioned. Clint watched the ceremony from the otherwise empty balcony for the general public. He had worked hard to ensure that the society gossips and, by extension, Natasha heard no rumor of the wedding. After two days of little sleep and enough coffee to kill a small horse, he was ready to go home to bed, but he needed to be here to make sure no Natasha manufactured disasters struck.

Kate had gotten a family friend of hers, Janet, to rush tailor two beautiful dresses. Pamela’s looked like something a storybook princess would wear, where as Lucy’s was simple and without adornment. Somehow they still matched.

Close friends and family surrounded the brides. Lucy’s dad hadn’t showed, Clint thought with some disappointment. He’d hoped that the man would be there to support his daughter, as her mother had evidently chosen to do.

The wedding was almost over, and Clint was internally celebrating when Natasha appeared on the balcony, a vision in a pale blue dress.

“Natasha, how did you get in here?” he hissed.

Clint had hired discreet security to keep her out. Of course, they were nowhere to be seen. She had probably bribed them. Her wallet was much thicker than his.

“Calm down, Clint,” she said. “I’m just here to watch the wedding.”

She stood there, projecting innocence, and deep in his gut Clint knew something wasn’t right; there was something he was missing. She could have anything planned, up to and including kidnapping of a bride.

“You’re letting me win?” he asked, trying to downplay his mistrust.

Natasha’s mouth twitched in answer. Her eyes were sparkling, and she looked downright happy. He’d never seen her lose gracefully before, and didn’t expect to see it now.

She walked closer, until she was close enough to touch, and then turned her body towards the ceremony below, ignoring him as if they were strangers.

“What aren’t you telling me?” he demanded, finally, keeping his voice quiet out of respect for the wedding below.

Ostensibly still focused on Pamela and Lucy, Natasha reached under his shirt, yanked out the wire beneath and crushed the microphone, all in one easy motion. Clint felt heat race over his skin where she had touched him, and grabbed the now useless mess of circuitry back from her, hands fumbling only slightly.

“A wire? Really?” she asked.

Clint put the mangled circuitry in his pocket. So what if he didn’t have the fancy equipment she had, he had still won. Or would win in approximately two minutes.

“Interesting that the father isn’t there,” she said, softly enough that someone three feet away couldn’t have discerned her words.

Clint’s head snapped up. She had less than two minutes to implement her plan, and anything she said could be a clue.

“A woman would certainly be justified in asking for a divorce if her own husband didn’t attend their only daughter’s wedding. Especially if he were foolish enough to pay for a match-breaking professional on his credit card. Any competent divorce attorney would have a field day with that.”

Clint choked, as he mentally replayed the past few days. He remembered her shock and dismay at the botched proposal, her insistence that he had ruined things.

“A loving daughter, seeing her parents on the verge of divorce, wouldn’t want to see her mother impoverished. She and her mother might even hire someone to ensure that her father was cast in a poor light, so her mother would receive a substantial sum in the divorce,” Natasha continued, casually, as if she were talking about a situation that had no relevance to herself.

Clint found himself ignoring the wedding below, in favor of staring at her, mesmerized.

“That loving daughter would try to let her girlfriend in on the plan, gently. But that girlfriend’s plan for a proposal could interrupt what was supposed to be a simple dinner. Add in an overzealous actress, and it’s a recipe for disaster.”

Below Clint and Natasha, their clients kissed, to cheers. Clint felt his heart sing, as it did every time he and Kate provided a happy ending.

Natasha turned to Clint, finally, a satisfied smile on her face.

“But despite those challenges, it would probably turn out for the best.”

“I’m sorry,” Clint blurted.

Natasha waved her hand in forgiveness. “It’s not like you could have known what was really going on.”

“No, I mean I’m sorry for the kiss. With Bobbi, I mean. I shouldn’t have been drinking in the first place, and that’s not an excuse, but I’m really sorry.”

The apology had sounded more noble and organized in his head.

Natasha put a finger to his lips, her eyes sad.

“Clint, today isn’t our day. You have a reception to attend, and I have a job to finish.”

And she was walking away from him, like so many times before. Again, he felt winded, like the words were stuck in his throat.

“Wait,” he managed to whisper.

Her pace slowed, but she didn’t stop entirely.

He followed her, hurrying until he was by her side.

“It’s not like there are enough days to go around, you know. People can share days,” he pointed out, bracing for the moment she was going to crush his heart into a million pieces.

“Not this one,” Natasha said, firmly.

Clint closed his eyes, defeated. So that was that, then.

Natasha put a hand on his shoulder, and stood on her toes to whisper in his ear.

“But you should definitely try tomorrow.”

She kissed his cheek, and disappeared.

Clint could feel a slow smile spread across his face. He waited until he was sure she was gone until he jumped for joy.


End file.
